


Midnight Gotham: Onigawara

by ImBackBoi



Series: Things that will never be finished or fully fleshed out [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Edit? Don't make me laugh, Fixing things with food, Food, Gen, Jason earns the undying loyalty of Gotham's poor people, Lots of Food, People crying and making things awkward, T for swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2020-12-17 17:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21058049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImBackBoi/pseuds/ImBackBoi
Summary: After the whole throat slitting thing, Red Hood is found dying in an alley by Old Musashi (diner chef, ex-Yakuza thug, bad-ass), who takes him in.Afterwords, Jason sticks around a while, eventually becoming the cool, calm, calculating Onigawara.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a clatter and clanging followed by a week moan.

Musashi took another drag from his cigarette, let the smoke curl up towards the florescent flood lights. He watched it vanish past the beams of light and into the darkness, when another gurgling moan broke the stillness of his break. This time, it was followed by slow shuffling and soft gasping. The old man had been in Gotham a long time, and had been in 'the business' long before that. Some sounds never changed, no matter the country. Or city.

He dropped the butt of the cigarette and ground it into the pavement.

Death speaks all languages, Musashi mused, doesn't it, Nancy?

The shuffling came closer. Just enough for him to see the man stumble outside the security light's circle of rays and collapse onto a heap of trash-bags. Musashi sighed and got to his feet.

As he approached, for the man held no fear of the dark or the things that lurked in it, the form on the trash-bags flopped an arm in his direction. Musashi quietly applauded his awareness even though it was obvious the man - no, teenager; despite his bulk the face was young - was in no condition to defend himself. The teen flopped his arm again and slid off the bag, leaving a long, wet smear behind him. Half a mask covered part of his bruised face. 

There was a gash across his neck and every time the boy breathed, it bubbled and blood leaked down his throat.

"Wha..." The boy gurgled thickly, "Who...J...pannn... Nani...oj...sss'nnnnn...."

"Be quiet," Musashi ordered. When the teen continued to flop and gurgle nonesense, he snapped harshly, "_Urusai!"_

The teen stilled. His eyes rolled back and shut; his body becoming limp.

Musashi huffed. 

"Damn, kids." The old man reached out and let a hand hover over the teenagers chest, just above the familiar symbol, and waited. A sinewy mist rose from the teens chest, coiling and writhing, snapping at old Musashi's fingers with ghostly teeth, it's eyes poisonously green. It was wounded deeply.

"What do you think, Nancy?" he asked, "I think you'd like him."

Nancy didn't answer. 

...

It was way to peaceful to be Gotham, where ever he was.

Jason kept his eyes shut, willed his rampant emotions to calm their shit, and waited for anything to give him a clue to his whereabouts. At first, there was only the scent of cigarettes. A soft exhale. Soon, there was the sound of water beginning to boil - in a kettle? As he waited, it climaxed, followed by a thick, mechanical click, then a gentle susuruss of clothing. 

Jason tensed. 

Paper ripped - twice. Water poured. 

Jasmine. 

"I know you're awake," a man said. He had an older, rough voice, but it sounded placid enough, "Would you like some tea?"

Jason opened his eyes and turned his head towards the voice. 

A man, older, Asian -Japanese?- sat on the floor, leaning against the wall next to an open window. Dawn. Steam wafted from the tea-cups and the electric kettle. It drifted through the early morning rays and took on a semi magical quality. The man tapped his cigarette out the window. 

"Don't have an ashtray?"

The man shrugged. 

"Why get one, when the window works?"

Well, couldn't argue with that logic. Jason supposed the ashes fell apart before they even got to street level. 

"Do you know who I am?"

"No." The man puffed smoke, "what I do know is that last night you were dying. Now, the only thing that might kill you is you."

...

The teen was meditating. 

He did that a lot. He also ate the rice Musashi gave him. Drank his tea. Stared out the window. Slept. 

They hadn't exchanged names and Musashi hadn't asked him to leave.

They didn't even talk. 

...

"Can you cook?"

Jason blinked. This was the first thing the old man had asked him in the week Jason had been sleeping on his spare futon. 

"Yeah."

"Good. Tonight, you'll help me downstairs."

Confused, but willing to roll with it as payback for the old man's help and quiet company, Jason nodded.

"My name is Musashi."

"Jason."

...

In Gotham, there is a restaurant unlike the rest. It's hours are from sundown to sunup. There are only two employees, Master and Apprentice. There isn't any menu and they'll make anything you ask them, as long as they have the ingredients (or you bring them).

It is the Midnight Diner. 

...


	2. Set No. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are fixed with food.

There was a storm headed for Gotham. 

Massive black thunder clouds had lined the eastern horizon for hours before sundown. Slowly rolling in with the tide. The bugs came out. The pressure changed; Musashi felt it in his knees. 

"You alright, old man?"

Musashi grunted around his cigarette, "Fine."

The teen rolled his eyes.

Jason was still around. God and Nancy only knew why. Musashi exhaled. Strange how cigarette smoke could be so pretty drifting in the security lights when second hand, it was so bad for you, "You're getting the next one though."

The teen snorted and went back inside. 

Turns out, Jason could cook like nobodies business. Even some of the more exotic orders (which, to be honest, weren't that often); borscht out of a pair of dusty canned beets Musashi hadn't even known he'd had, hummus (but hummus was easy), Badami chicken curry (for a young couple with rings on their fingers), Kimchi Jigae for a lost tourist (why Gotham? Why? Jason had asked and had rolled his eyes at, "Because, Batman!"

But his best dishes were the comfort foods. 

It was almost Midnight when the young woman stumbled in. She wore too much make-up to be pretty and clothes to tight to leave much to the imagination. Musashi didn't recognize her. 

She plopped into a seat, looked around at the usual suspects and, after thirty seconds of apparently waiting, demanded, "Where the hell is your menu?"

"Don't have one."

"What the fuck?" she was annoyed, "How the hell do people know what to order?"

"Hey!" said one of the usual suspects, "Just order what you're hungry for and they'll fuckin' make it. Don't be rude."

"Hey, fuck you!" the hooker stood up, hand swinging, "Just cuz I work for a fuckin' living don't mean you get to disrespect me like that! Fuck you-"

Musashi stepped up to the bar, and commanded quietly, "Enough."

The hooker reared back like he'd slapped her. She probably hadn't even seen him move. They rarely did, "We're humans too. If you can't respect that, then maybe you should leave."

She rallied quickly enough, "It's about to piss outside and you want to kick me out? Is it because I'm black, you racist mother-" 

She stopped suddenly, eyes widening as she looked over Musashi's shoulder. A glance at one of the front windows showed Jason behind him in the reflection, fearsome scowl in place. The kid had that effect on people. 

"We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, for any reason," Musashi gestured to the sign on the door and laminated to the bar. "Just like any other restaurant."

The hooker growled and left, slamming the door in her wake. 

Oh, Nancy, Musashi sighed, getting the coffee for refills, She'll be back.

...

She came back three hours later, heralded by thunder. When the door slammed behind her this time, it was because of the wind. She was drenched.

She slunk her way to the bar, not because she wanted to but because she didn't really have a choice. Musashi didn't have tables, only a U shaped bar. Place wasn't big enough for anything else. 

"Will you really make whatever I ask for?"

Musashi nodded, then had to correct himself, and jerked his thumb towards the kitchen, "Yes, as long as we have the ingredients. And technically it's his turn to cook."

There was a brief flicker of fear on her face before she covered it up. Her make-up as smeared and there was a bruise forming on her cheek. 

"I'll have shrimp and grits," she said, "with stewed tomatoes."

"Sure."

...

"Grits?" Jason groaned, "They take forever. I hope she's okay waiting an hour."

Musashi shrugged, "Go ask."

"Are you kidding? You saw how she looked at me."

"She'll get over it and so will you," Musashi grabbed his smokes and headed for the back, "Don't forget to bring her a towel."

Jason scowled after the man. Asshole. 

He grabbed a handful of kitchen towels and shouldered his way through the swinging door. 

"Hey, lady," the woman's head jerked off the bar with a wild-eyed look, "We don't have any insta-grits. You okay with waiting an hour for your food?"

Jason firmly ignored her panic, waited for her to calm down and her breathing to slow. He ignored the bruise too. He knew better than to call attention to it, even if it made his blood boil. 

"Wh-at?" she finally croaked. 

Jason repeated himself. 

"Yeah. Sure," she swallowed, "I can wait, it's whatever." Then she let her head fall back to the bar, muttering, "S'not like anyone's waiting for me."

"Hey," he said gently, and she lifted her head to stare at him blearily, "Here are some towels. I know it's not much, but that door over there is the bathroom. Go get dry. Dry-ish? No need to get sick."

The hooker eyeballed him, then the towels, her eyes watered. 

Oh, fuck, Jason thought, fuck, please don't cry.

"Thanks," she said roughly, snatched the towels out of his hand, and went to the bathroom.

...

There were three other orders while the grits cooked. Pork Congee for a Chinese man Jason recognized as a member of the local Triad which the Old Man cooked. Burgers for some low level thugs, which Jason handled. Spicy Pork Ramen (Musashi again) for a down and out hipster wannabee college student that had Jason's mouth watering. 

"That smells damn delicious," the hooker groaned as Jason slid the plate in front of her. "Oh my _gawd."_

"You're welcome." 

She dug in with a gusto that amused him. Jason had just began pushing the kitchen door open when he heard the first sniffle and froze. He turned. 

Tears streamed down the woman's face as she chewed her food. Her eyes were vacant as she went for another bite. 

The college student on the side of the bar looked distinctly uncomfortable. Jason knew how he felt. He got her some napkins. 

"This tastes," she sobbed, "this is just like my Nana's. How?"

"Uh, bay leaves and fish sauce?"

She shoved the plate away and sobbed into the napkins. Jason didn't think she'd heard him. 

The college student waved him over, awkwardly handed him some money, and bolted out the door. 

"Gawd, I miss her so much," the woman bawled, "Why'd she have to go away? Why did she have to leave me?"

_Fuck._

"Fucking drive-by," she went on. Jason got her more napkins, "How could God let something so awful happen to such a good woman. How come they're still driving free when my Nana is in the ground? Huh?"

Shit happens, Jason wanted to say, and, Where the fuck were you this time, Batman? Huh? But he didn't. 

"She was going to church," she stared desperately at Jason, "Church! And God let her die! Me? I wasn't even there! I was on so much crack she had to call the ambulance. She went there to pray for me!"

"I'm sorry," Jason murmured and ducked when her food went sailing at his head. 

She wailed and raced out into the stormy night. 

"Shit."

...

She came back right before they closed.

Slipped timidly in the door like a cat expecting the broom while Jason was sweeping. There were two ancient men at the bar drinking coffee and eating biscuits and gravy. 

Jason leaned on his broom and watched her drop a ratty duffel and take a seat. She wore a too big green hoodie and jeans.

"What's up?" 

"I'm sorry," she said bluntly, rooting around in her purse. "For throwing your food. Breaking a dish. Crying on you. Running out with out paying. Everything."

"It's fine," Jason smiled, rubbing his throat, "Honestly, not the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

"Still. It wasn't right. My Nana raised me better than that." She slapped a fiver on the bar and slid it to him, "I'm leaving Gotham. Nana never liked this place and she wouldn't like the life I'm leading right now or the person I've become by staying here."

"Good for you."

The old men cheered, "Hear hear, girly!" and "Takes a strong woman to know that."

The woman smiled and blushed. Jason thought she looked much prettier without make up, even with the bruise, and her hair wild and natural.

"Do you know where you're headed?"

She shook her head. 

"Georgia, eventually. That's where Nana was from."

"There's a women's shelter in Metropolis that can help you get to where you're going," Musashi said quietly, making Jason jump slightly. The old man set a brochure on the bar in front of her, "Bus 451 will take you within a block. It's a brown building, blue door, flowers on the front window. Ask for Flora."

"Thank you," the woman whispered, taking the brochure.

"You're welcome."

...

"Is this what you do?" Jason asked after locking up. "Fix people with food?"

Musashi frowned. 

"No," he answered, "I just feed people and listen. They fix themselves."

"Huh."

Jason couldn't deny the sense of satisfaction when the woman had declared she was leaving Gotham. It felt good that he'd been able to help her without even trying. In the month he'd been at the restaurant, he'd noticed people opened up to Musashi without any prompting, but it had never happened to him before. 

It was different. Maybe... This was what Ducra had meant about compassion.

Huh. He'd have to meditate on it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Inspiration hit soon rather than later?
> 
> FYI they made her breakfast before she left, she made it safe to the shelter and is currently on the bus to Savannah, GA. 
> 
> Question: What time of year did Jason get his throat cut by batman at the end of Under the Red Hood? I need to know. 
> 
> What do we think?


	3. #2 Combo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which world views begin to change little by little and we see the beginning of something new...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know what I'm doing? No. No, I do not.

In Gotham, there is a restaurant unlike the rest. It's hours are from sundown to sunup. There are only two employees, Master and Apprentice. There isn't any menu and they'll make anything you ask them, as long as they have the ingredients (or you bring them).

It is the Midnight Diner. 

-

It started with Jerry.

"Stay here, okay?" the man was telling the boy, "Just, stay here. I'll be back in a bit."

The boy coloring at the bar jerked his head.

"Okay, just," the man sighed and ran a gentle hand through the boys hair, "Stay. Okay? I'll be back. I promise."

It was a couple hours after sundown when the man came in with his son. Jason made them spaghetti. 

"How long do you think you'll be?" Jason asked, "Just in case."

The man ran both of his hands through his hair, gripping it and pulling. He was stressed, anyone could see that, but there was more to it. Jason saw the worry when he looked at the boy and the tenseness when he glanced at this watch. 

"Whatever you're doing," Jason murmured, "It's not too late to pull out." 

The man sighed explosively and looked Jason in the eyes. 

"Maybe," he agreed, "But I've got too much riding on this. I _can't _ afford to quit now. I can't."

"Jerry," Musashi said calmly from behind Jason, "We have him, don't worry."

Jerry dropped his gaze. He pressed the palms of his hands heavily against the sides of his head, as if to crush his own skull. 

"I'll be back."

...

"I like Dinosaur Train."

"Is that like Barney?"

"What's Barney?"

Jason and the boy, Danny, stared at each other. 

"There is clearly a generational gap here. Is that why I suddenly feel so old?"

"You're weird," Danny slapped down a green card, "Uno!"

"What? No!" Jason glanced down at his full hand of cards and demanded, "_How?_"

Danny laughed.

In the kitchen, Musashi snorted. 

The clock said midnight. 

...

Danny had attached himself to Jason's side like a leech. Musashi thought it was hilarious. Currently, the boy was clinging to Jason's back like a small monkey as the young man swept up the dining room. 

"You're really strong!" 

"Thanks, kid."

Musashi ducked back into the kitchen. Jason's frantic look as the kid literally used him as a jungle gym was almost too much. 

...

"You need to sleep."

"I do not!" Danny argued vehemently, "I'm just fine! I can stay up. My dad's coming back and I'm gunna be up. I wanna see my dad!"

"C'mon, kid," Jason shot back exasperatedly, "It's not like we wont wake you up when he gets here. He's gunna be dead tired when he comes to get you and if he has to carry you home because you can't stay up and walk by yourself, he might drop you. Do you think he'd like that?"

Danny scowled darkly. 

"No."

"Right. So, if you take a damn nap now, you can get up when he's back and help keep him up on the way home. That'd be a big help, wouldn't it?"

Danny's scowl got deeper. 

"Yes," the kid growled out. 

"Fantastic. Let's get you a pillow kid."

"No!"

"For fucks- what _now_?"

"I'm hungry."

Laughter floated out of the kitchen. Jason glared in that direction. 

...

Jerry did not come back. 

Not that night.

Not the next morning.

Not during the day or into the afternoon. 

As afternoon slowly turned into evening, Musashi made the executive decision to send Jason off to Jerry and Danny's address to get some things. Danny had thrown three temper tantrums, melted down twice, and had been in a near constant state of tears; so Jason cajoled the address out of the boy and fled as quickly as possible while Musashi plied him with chicken nuggets and cheesy broccoli. 

As he walked the route to Jerry's apartment, Jason wondered at how far he'd fallen. As the Red Hood, there was the chance he may have employed a man like Jerry. As the Red Hood, he wondered at how many men like Jerry he may have killed in his war against the other drug lords and mobsters of Gotham City and in his vendetta against Batman.

Jason rubbed his throat absently. How many orphans had he created? Were the children of the scumbags he killed any better off with out their fathers? Did they know their fathers were scumbags? Were their mothers any better off? How many jobs did they have to work now just to make rent and put food on the table? Did they have mothers to fall back on? Did their mothers even give a shit that their husbands were dead? Did anyone care?

Anyone at all?

I care, Jason thought suddenly, Musashi cares. It's why he keeps the shit hours. Bruce might think he cares, but does he really? Did Dick truly care? Or was he just addicted to a life he'd known since adolescence and didn't know anything else? 

Did the Replacement?

I care, Jason looked around for the right apartment building, otherwise I wouldn't have put up with Danny and wouldn't be looking for some thugs apartment.

A strange thought entered his head. What if he'd been doing it wrong? He truly believed that some people needed to die. There was real evil in the world that needed to be eradicated... but what if his violent approach had been the wrong approach. Or maybe, he'd been on the right track, but had gone about it the wrong way?

What if, instead of working from the head down, he should have started at their clay feet and destroyed their empires from the bottom up. 

Jason found the right building. The main doors weren't even locked. Stairs creaked and the walls were stained with time and grime. 

Alfred once told him that he'd always catch more flies with honey, than vinegar. 

Ducra had schooled him in empathy and compassion. 

Talia had given him her time and resources. 

Bruce had given him hope. 

Musashi, now, who knew what he'd very recently been; who knowingly, wordlessly supported him through Lazarus induced fits; who gave him a place to belong no questions asked - 

Unbidden, Jason thought about his father. His real dad, Willis. Not Bruce. Bruce made his choice clear that night some months ago. 

It had been such a long time ago... He'd been small. They'd still been a family. His mom hadn't been sick yet. His dad hadn't yet turned into a grade A asshole. Sparky hadn't been hit by a car.

_"Where did you go, Daddy?"_

_"Daddy had to work."_

_"At night? That's silly."_

_"You're right, kiddo, it is," Willis had picked up the small boy, "But times are tight. Sometimes, a man has to take what he can get to make ends meet. Mommy make dinner tonight?"_

Jason recognized now the exhaustion that had been on Willis' face. 

_"Yes," Jason had said sleepily, face in daddy's shoulder. He smelled like smoke and pollution ocean spray. He'd woken up when he'd heard the door open. Mommy said he was a light sleeper. "We put yours in the fridge."_

The door to the apartment was cracked and Jason heard voices from within. 

How old had Jason been? 6? Younger than Danny. A few years later, he would learn to hate his dad for always being gone. For always being in a bad mood. For being drunk. For fighting with mom. For passing out on the couch. Jason knew the signs now. Could see in his minds eye the wear and tear of supporting his family the only way he knew how and the toll it had taken on his dad. How it had gradually changed him. How he'd gone from 'Daddy' to 'that bastard'. Of course, his mom was no saint. She'd been an addict before she'd gotten sick and had only gotten worse afterwards. 

At least they'd stayed together. Even at their worst. 

And... he loved them. Still. Or, who they used to be? 

No, Jason slipped into the apartment, that wasn't true. He hated them, but he loved them still. It had just taken a long damn time to see it. Like Jerry clearly loved his dad, Jason had loved Willis. Like Jason had loved Bruce. And (Jason's heart pounded) still did. Even if Bruce was never going to love him again. _That_ much was clear. 

Jason shook his head. No. This wasn't about him anymore. This was about Danny and Jerry. About everyone else struggling to make ends meet. 

"I'm telling you, it ain't here," a man said, "There ain't nothin' here."

"And I'm tellin' _you_," the other man said, "That it is. Where the fuck else a shit like Jerry gonna hide something? Too bad the kid ain't here. He mighta known something."

"Pfft."

Jason quelled the surge of rage. Breathed so he wouldn't sink beneath the virulent green. 

"Listen, I know Jerry," the first man said, "He wouldn't do this. He's solid. There ain't no way he'd risk Two-Face's wrath pulling a stunt like this. Not with Danny on the line."

Shit. Double shit.

"If that were fuckin' true, we wouldn't be in this situation, would we?"

"Maybe the bat got him? Or one of them others. What about Hood?"

"Ain't nobody seen nor heard from Hood since he lost his shit with that thing with the Bat. He's probably dead," snarled the second. "At least with him around, there was law and order. Bat's don't work like he used to. Cops ain't worth shit, not in our part of town anyways. Ain't no politician gonna stand up for the little guy. Workin' for the psycho's ain't the best way to go, but at least it puts some kind of food on the table. At least it gets my daughter a bus ticket to her grandma's so she don't get gang-raped at her highschool." Something shattered, "To expensive to stay, to damn expensive to leave! Taxes out the fuckin' wazoo. Jobs all go to the illegals. Charity money goes to the pockets that run the charities. Fuckin' Brucie Wayne can have five fuckin' kids, but your Joe Average has one? Oh, god what a fuckin' waste of air. Not another leech on fuckin' society! How _will_ the dink's make room for their toys?!"

The silence was tense. 

"It's home though," the first man said quietly, "Fucked up, but it's home."

"Yeah, it fuckin' is."

Sensing they were leaving soon, Jason slipped back out of the apartment, quickly dashed up the stairs and listened. Soon enough, the men left the apartment. Trudging down the hallways and the stairs, one of them muttered, "I hope he's fuckin' dead. Save him a lot of pain."

"Poor kid, though."

"Yeah."

And they were gone. 

Jason glanced at his watch. He still had a few hours until the restaurant opened at nightfall. If he hurried, he could still grab some of Danny's things and tail the two men. Jason lurched into action. 

...

"You're back!" 

Danny lunged and caught Jason round the middle with half a sob. Jason cringed and patted the boy on the head. 

"Yeah, kid. I'm back. Got your stuff, too."

Batman had served his purpose, Jason decided on the way back to the restaurant, but he wasn't what Gotham needed anymore. Gotham needed something... different. Something less fist-i-cuffs and more... gentle. 

Like Musashi's cooking and listening. 

Like Ducra's touted compassion and empathy.

Like Dr. Thompkins clinic. 

"Did you see my dad?" Danny demanded. 

"No." Jason ruffled the boys hair, "But I know where to look. Hey, why don't you go brush your teeth? Your breath stinks."

"Does not!" but the kid snatched the backpack out of Jason's hands and went to the bathroom anyways.

Musashi ghosted into the living room. 

"What did you find?"

"Nothing good," Jason murmured, "Some guys were there trashing the place. Someone thinks Jerry took something important to Two-Face. Some don't. I... There are a few ways I can-" the toilet flushed and the sink turned on. Jason breathed deep. "I can help, but I'll need the night off."

Musashi nodded and smiled wryly, "I don't even pay you. Do what you think is best."

...

Jason still had bolt holes around the city, untouched by since that night with the Joker. Some of them had been ransacked - by bats or by rats, Jason didn't know - but others were still secure and Jason was thankful. Gathering the necessary equipment, the young man proceeded to ghost through the night. 

The two men from earlier had been more helpful than they knew. They were obviously friends, knew Jerry, knew the Gotham's underbelly well, and weren't complete sociopaths. The Jason from before wouldn't have hesitated to kidnap, glean information anyway possible, and then kill them.

Jason of today, the new Jason, the Jason planning and plotting a new course and path for future Jason to walk - 

He was going to do something a little different. 

...

Jason plopped into the booth across from a burly man. 

"Who the ever livin' fuck are you?" the man snarled over his beer. 

"That's not important," Jason answered, leaning forward, "Not right now. Right now, all you need to know is that I'm a friend of Jerry's."

The burly man sputtered in surprise and, quick as a flash, he grabbed Jason's shirt and hauled him in close. Jason beat back the brief haze of green and didn't break the guys wrist. 

"You listen here, punk," the man growled, "this ain't funny. If you know something about Jerry, you best keep it to yourself or you've another thing coming."

"I don't know anything about Jerry other than that he's missing and his kid is worried sick about him," Jason muttered, "I want to help Jerry, not do him in."

"You keep that shit to yourself," snapped the man, shaking Jason, "Do you hear me?"

"I hear you. Which is why I'm talking to you and not anyone else."

"Jerry just wanted to do right by his kid, hear me? He ain't done nothing to deserve this shit. Nothin'."

"I believe you." Jason replied quietly, "And I think the same damn thing, which is why I'm here. I want to help him. I'm asking you to help me help him. Please."

"What the hell do you get out of this?" 

Jason looked him in the eyes. 

"Nothing." He paused, "No, that's not true, I get his damn kid out of my hair. Little shit literally climbed me like a fucking jungle gym."

The man snorted a laugh and shoved Jason back in his seat. 

"Yeah, kids a shit alright." He eyeballed Jason, "You don't look like the helping type, but I believe you kid, fuck if I know why."

"Because you know Jerry. And you know that whatever happened, it probably didn't go down like everyone thinks it did."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right about that. I don't believe a damn thing they're saying."

"Tell me," Jason commanded gently, "and I will do everything I within my power to help."

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look out for part two? Eventually.
> 
> I like how calm this Jason is becoming. My personal headcannon is that Jason has severe anxiety on top of PTSD and what he really needs is a lot of quiet time (Musashi's apartment) and a lot of support (people loving his food and chatting with him and coming back because of him/it), repetition (working every night at the same thing) with some creativity with in boundaries (cooking the orders however he wants), and structure (meditation, kata's, and restaurant chores).


	4. #2 combo; left-overs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets Jerry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minimal excitement. Lots of talking.

Jerry wasn't dead, but it was a close thing. 

Or, it was about to be. 

The first thing he needed to do was get the Replacement out of the fucking way. Little shit was nosing around way to close to where Jason needed to be, which was bad. If the Robin was around, a Bat wasn't far off behind. If the bats got to Two-Face, Jerry was a goner. Either popped off by Two-Face, or lost to a system of corrupt justice, leaving Danny...

And if Jerry was saved specifically by Robin or Batman, then he would only rank higher on Two-Face's 'to do' list. 

Which was bad. 

Not on my watch, Jason thought. He considered the situation. The others were already in place. There was still a small chance that the plan would still work with Robin around, but better to not risk it. Especially when the fighting started. 

Or calling in Batman for backup. 

_Always consider the end goal you're working for,_ Talia had drilled into him. _How can you make the situation work for your gain?_

His goal? Save Jerry. His _end_ goal? Jason paused, that was a little different. He was trying to take down these people quietly? Destroy their empires from the bottom up? Earn their trust? Jason wanted to help Gotham in ways that Batman couldn't. 

Get in, plant the bomb, get Jerry, get out while the fire was hot - that was what he needed to do to make the situation work in his favor. He wasn't out to earn points with the cops or the masks or even the villains. Robin would help with none of that. Not right now.

He was out for the little people, like he always should have been. 

In the end, Robin mosied on off by himself and Jason allowed himself to focus on the job at hand. 

...

"H-how?" Jerry struggled to walk, even as Jason hauled him along, "How did you-? How-? What about my kid?"

"He's safe," Jason re-adjusted the older man's arm around his shoulders and began hauling him along, "right where you left him-"

"Hey!" A bright voice interrupted, "Looks like you guys could use an escort!"

Robin landed on the ground with a flourish, twirling his bo-staff. 

A green haze threatened Jason's vision. He forced himself to breath. Faintly, he heard Jerry stutter and Robin chirp something annoying chipper. 

"_No_," Jason snarled harshly, surprising himself. He breathed again, "No. We don't need your help. We don't want your help. We don't want your ever-watchful big brother eyes on us, you little shit."

Robin reared back.

"You may not realize this, even though I heard you were the _smart_ Robin," Jason went on dryly, feeling more in control of himself, "But people you 'help'" (here he did air quotes with his free hand) "They get _marked._ They get _noticed_. They get _ostracized._ You fuckers think you go unseen, invisible in the cold black night? Well, fuck you. Gotham's got a million and one eyes. Someone always sees. So, no. Get lost. We don't want or need your _help_."

"You're rude."

"But telling the damn truth." Jason locked eyes with the Replacement. "Do your own fucking homework, don't just follow blindly."

Jason started Jerry moving again. 

"There's a clinic on-"

"We know where the free-fucking-clinic is," Jerry snarled, surprising Jason and definitely Robin, "Go home, get some sleep, go to school in the morning. Leave us the fuck alone."

Robin took a step back, gave them one last look, and vanished into the night. 

Jerry sagged against Jason. "Fuck."

"I hear ya."

"You know, I hate Robin. I mean, he's a good kid," he wheezed, "But I hate that he's out and about like this. That's fucking child abuse. Batman's no better than the mob, in my opinion," more wheezing, "Taking kids into his criminal empire, telling them they're doing a good thing with their B&E and illegal vigilante-ism. He's got to be one sick son-of-a-bitch or a sociopath to do that to a kid. I mean, how much of that bleeds into their everyday life? They're kids! How are they gonna know when they've gone too far? Do they look at their friends and see someone they can hang out with or do they categorize them on the type of crime they're most likely to commit?"

Jason stared, even as they walked and Jerry wheezed. He hadn't realized normal people thought about things like that. 

"I hate this town," Jerry half-sobbed, half-gasped, "I hate Batman. I hate that I can't even get a decent job to support my own kid. I hate that I can't even afford to get out. Fucking Batman's the fucking reason why I'm like this right fucking now."

"I know." Jason sympathized. It was true for him, too. 

"It's never ending," they stumbled a bit, "trying to do right, but can't avoid doing wrong to do it. Get caught in the crossfire between one sick psycho in a mask and another sick psycho in a mask, get bum-fucked for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and how the fuck did you even know how to help?"

"If I tell you, will you shut the fuck up and save your breath?"

Jerry laughed and coughed up blood. He nodded grimly.

"Honestly, I had no idea if it would work." Jason muttered, "I went looking for you. Then I ended up talking to some guys who know you, which you may want to buy some extra trash bags before you home, by the way. Anyways, the one explained the situation to me. I did some digging. Found some promising leads. Put several two and two's together, hatched a crazy, cockamamie plan which basically involved telling the truth to all the wrong people and spreading a shitload of rumors. Started a mini-gang war. Planted a bomb. Rescued the damsel in distress. You know, just the usual."

Jerry choked on his laughter.

"You can really expect me to believe that..." he coughed, "What happened to Two-face?"

"Honestly? I hope that fucker is dead."

"Yeah. I thought I was dead for a minute. Then I saw your ugly mug."

Jason snorted. He adjusted Jerry and they continued stumbling along. 

"I have a friend." Jason said quietly, "I can get you out of Gotham. You and your son. New identities, clean record."

Jerry didn't say anything. He wheezed and Jason carried more and more of the man's weight. 

"What's that going to cost me?" The man finally asked bitterly. 

Jason was quiet.

"Not money. Information. Possibly help getting other people out in the future. I have a plan... Kind of."

"Huh." Jerry sagged even more, "Let me...think...about..."

Jerry went limp.

"Fuck."

...

It had taken two days to pull his plan together. Technically, two nights and one day, with some help from Nolan, the guy from the bar, and his crew. Jerry spent a day at Dr. Thompkins free clinic and Jason took Danny to see him. Nolan met them there. 

"I've thought about your offer," Jerry said as Nolan took Danny to harass a nurse for some suckers. "And I want to know more before I take you up on it. It sounds too good to be true. Hell, I'm still confused about why the fuck you'd risk your life to help me."

Jason stared. He's expected this.

"Honestly," he said, leaning back in his chair, "You remind me of my own dad. He worked for Two-Face once. Once. And that was the last time I every saw him. Mom was an addict and she had cancer, which just made that worse. He loved her, I know this now. Or else he never would have kept digging himself a deeper pit in this fucking hellhole trying to get ahead and keep her in the good stuff."

Jerry nodded. 

"Shit happened. I got out. I saw more of the world than most people. Learned a few things."

"Like bombs?"

Jason grinned, "Eh. I gotta helluva skillset."

"So. Re-cap. You help because in some fucked up way you think it's like helping your dad?"

"More like, I helped you because nobody ever helped my dad and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Also, that kid of yours would _not_ stop crying." Jason straightened and leaned towards the bed earnestly, "Listen. I've got a plan to take back Gotham from the ground up. You, being as high up as you were for Two-Face? You know things. More than you realize. In exchange for getting you out of Gotham, I want to pick your brain."

"You can't be more than twenty!"

"I'm 19."

"Fuck." Jerry's jaw dropped, "Fuck it. What are you gunna do, go runnin' to Batman with this shit? Because-"

"Fuck Batman," his face darkened angrily, voice laced with rage, "Batman feeds off the crazy and the crazy feeds off him. Batman is part of the problem. In some ways, he _is_ the fucking problem."

Jerry leaned back against the pillows, terror spasmed across his face. Jason pulled away and settled deeply into his chair once more, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Sorry."

"You - you're -"

"Cursed." Jason looked up, fairly certain his eyes were no longer poisonously green, "I'm cursed, but I try not to let my demons own me these days."

Danny and Nolan came back with a handful of suckers, the boy chattering a mile a minute. Jason smiled as the kid crawled onto his Dad's bed and would not Shut Up. 

"Anyways," he stood and offered his seat to Nolan. "I gotta go. Think about it. You know where to find me when you're ready."

...

Musashi was up front when Jerry came back a week later sans Danny. He looked wrung out and pale with dark shadows under his eyes. 

"What can I get you?"

Jerry looked up blurrily from the counter-top. 

"Soup. And if Jason's around, I need to talk to him."

_Was it that time, Nancy?_

Jason went up front and Musashi fixed the soup. 

The door opened and shut and he heard the sign rustle and the door lock. Musashi decided that it was time to break out the good stuff. 

When the tray with four cups, a bottle of hot sake, and a bowl of soup was placed on the counter Jason stared blankly at him.

Musashi nodded at him it as he passed the cups. "Pour the sake."

Jason did with a slow smile. 

They raised their cups, "To a new Gotham."

"A new Gotham."

_Nancy will love this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't know exactly what Jason is up too, yet, but Musashi approves.

**Author's Note:**

> So. 
> 
> Premise. Jason gets adopted by a reformed Yakuza thing living in Gotham, works in the Midnight Diner, and fixes things with food/a listening ear/info given by people who don't actually want to do bad things think they don't have a choice because Batman only beats up crime, instead of fixing the root of the problem. 
> 
> Gives up red hood and becomes the cool, calculating vigilante known as Onigawara. 
> 
> Yeah, expect sporadic and short chapters. Also, please tell me what you think.


End file.
